


Where I Should Be

by behindthemaddness



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Angst, Break Up, Cheating, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-01 20:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10929882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/behindthemaddness/pseuds/behindthemaddness
Summary: "Is he here?”“No, Derek, he isn’t and you need to leave.”“Good.” Derek chose only to hear the first word of that sentence. He crowded Stiles up against the wall, slipping one hand around his waist and the other against his cheek. “I miss you.”“Please, Derek, don’t do this to me.” But it was like every other time he and Derek were alone together, like every other time Derek took Stiles’ bottom lip between his, biting it gently. The rest of the world just faded away and all he was left with was the need to climb inside of Derek’s heart and make a home for himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to start my morning listening to Harry Styles' new album and then spent the rest of the day writing this bad-boy up (with the album on repeat). Enjoy.

The bar is dark, loud and dirty. Just like it is every Friday night and Stiles knows by the time he gets home he’s going to need at least two showers before successfully getting the smell of smoke and body odour off his skin. It’s become their regular spot, for which he blames Erica, only she would love a bar where the drinks are dirt cheap but you can’t touch any surface for fear of getting stuck to it.

Stiles is currently at the bar, which he’s made the grave mistake of leaning against and is trying to pick bits of a solidified cosmopolitan off his sleeve. A warm body presses close to his side.

“Hey babe, I was about ready to send out a search party.” Paul’s smile had the ability to blind people but tonight it is edged with anxiety.  

“Sorry, got a bit side tracked.” He gives up on his shirt, it’s his second-least favourite anyway. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Stiles kisses Paul softly and his smile becomes a little bit more relaxed.

Stiles and Paul have been dating for the past six months, this is only his second-time meeting Stiles’ friends and it’s going only slightly better than the first. Not to say that the guys don’t like him, they’re just, politely put, less than amiable. He knows what it’s about and he’d had a stern talking to them before Paul arrived. Paul’s the first person he’s dated seriously since… well, _since_. They’ll get over it. Eventually. Paul is a good guy, a great guy in fact. They will see that he’s happy and they’ll learn to mind their own goddamn business. He hopes.

“Here.” He hands Paul his beer and leads them back to the booth. Erica’s mouth quickly snaps shut from whatever she’s whispering when they arrive at the table and Stiles takes a second to glare at her. “Anything interesting happen in my absence?”

“Nope, just talking about the weather.” Erica smile is sickly sweet. “It’s been very humid this week.” She has about as much tact as, well, something tactless.

The tense silence, in which Stiles and Erica are seemingly trying to have an argument via telepathy, is broken when Scott starts excitedly talking about wedding plans.

“We can’t decide on flowers for the reception, it’s going to be an autumn wedding and I was thinking-” Allison slaps a hand over his mouth.

“No. No wedding talk.” The group snickers at the utterly despondent look on Scott's face. “I’m done. I am going to be a fat pregnant bride and I’m fucking done with wedding talk. At least for tonight.”

“Well, as the best man-”

“Are you even the best man?” Boyd questions, interrupting Stiles. “I thought Derek was making a hard play for it.”

“I’ve known Scott since we were six years old, we showed each other our penis’ in the sandbox that one time!” Stiles ignores the looks and sounds of disgust coming from around the table. “Just because Derek has been hanging around-”

“You mean has been Scott’s brother since he was 12-years-old?”

“Shut-up, Isaac, you are not helping!”   

“Scott and Derek are brothers?” Paul whispers into Stiles ear, throwing him off his tirade.

“Step-brothers, technically.” Stiles puts an arm around Paul and pulls him closer to his side, trying to make him feel included, Stiles has a tendency to get caught up in conversations. Paul’s naturally a quiet and introverted person and being around this group of crazies is enough to make anyone crawl into their shell.

“Speaking of, where the hell is Derek?” Erica asks, turning to Stiles.

“He had a last-minute emergency meeting or something, he’ll be here at seven.” It’s only when Erica smiles back at him smugly that he realises his mistake, he ignores her in favour of kissing Paul on the cheek.  

Two beers later the whole group is smiling and laughing and Stiles feels more at ease. The conversation has steered clear of weddings, Erica has dropped her agenda against Stiles and Paul is finally settling into the conversation, piping up every now and again to add to the banter.

“I gotta take a leak, anyone want another drink on my way back?” Stiles takes multiple orders that he’s sure he’s going to forget but nods with confidence anyway.

He pushes past drunk and rowdy groups, trying to get where the bathrooms are at the back of the bar. As soon as he turns down the dark hallway an arm grabs him around his shoulders and pushes him into the wall. His protest dies in his mouth when he finds himself looking into mesmerising hazel eyes.

“Hey.”

“Derek,” Stiles says, blinking at him in surprise. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” he murmurs, gaze flicking from Stiles’ mouth to his eyes. “How’s your night been so far? Miss me?” his voice is smooth in a way Stiles feels right down to his toes.

“Derek, get off me.” His body is pressed against Stiles’ in a way that cannot be misconstrued as just two friends having a conversation.  

“That’s not what you said last week,” Derek’s reply is cocky, a smirk curling one corner of his mouth.

“I can’t do this right now,” his voice weak as Derek's fingers slip under his shirt, teasing at the sensitive skin at his hip, and Stiles doesn't move to push Derek away.

“I see you brought wonder boy.”  

“You knew he was coming, he’s my boyfriend.” Derek rolls his eyes, pushing closer into Stiles and slipping his leg between his thighs.

“Oh yeah?” His lips are soft when he brushes them against Stiles’, teasing, his tongue peeking out to lick at his bottom lip. Stiles moans, grabbing Derek at the back of his neck to pull him into a deeper desperate kiss. Shamefully long minutes pass before Stiles remembers where he is and who he’s with, guilt pooling in his stomach.  

“Derek,” he growls, shoving at him and pushing away from where he was practically dry-humping his leg. “Back off.”

“Where are our drinks?” Erica demands when Stiles returns to the table.

“Sorry, I forgot, there was a line at the toilets.” He slides back in next to Paul and tries not to tense when Derek rocks up to the table two minutes later.

Stiles and Derek’s past is complicated. Derek came into his life when Stiles was twelve and Derek seventeen, they did _not_ get along. Derek had lost his mum and two sisters two years prior in a house fire and when his dad started dating Scott’s mum, he was a wealth of teenage angst. He picked on Scott and Stiles like crazy, and while Scott desperately sought Derek's approval Stiles refused to take any of his crap. As they got older and their parents married, Scott and Derek grew closer while Stiles and Derek’s antagonistic tension turned into tension of a completely different sort.      

Stiles was in his final year of High School when Derek returned from college to live at home for the year, get a job and save some money before he returned to New York. By the time Stiles and Scott had graduated, he and Derek had been casually, and secretly, fucking for four months.

They stopped when Derek and Scott left for New York and Stiles had stayed in California, Scott wanted to go to NYU like his brother and Stiles got into Berkeley. Apart from a few incidents when they all returned home for the holidays, they didn’t have much to do with each other; Stiles saw other people - Derek hadn’t stopped – and he didn’t once think about him.

It took Stiles five years, _five years_ to realise that he was in love with Derek. He got offered a job at a prolific advertising company in New York, Scott was practically jumping for joy and singing hallelujah when Stiles got off that plane. Derek was there, by Scott’s side in a burgundy sweater with thumb holes and a navy pea-coat with the collar popped so high it was ridiculous. Stiles was about to give him shit for it when he realised, and what came out of his mouth instead was more noise than actual words and all he could think was ‘oh, fuck’.

That was three years ago.   

“Derek, you remember Paul?” Stiles reintroduces them, like the good boyfriend that he is.

“Hey Derek, good to see you again.” Paul reaches forward to shake Derek hand and for a moment Stiles thinks he’s going to ignore it, he breathes an internal sigh of relief when he doesn’t.

Derek’s smile is strained and Paul squints for a moment in confusion.

“Well, looks like the gang’s all here.” Scott claps his hands together excitedly, before trying to, unsuccessfully, steer the conversation toward wedding arrangements. Stiles decides Scott’s next five rounds are on him.

Later that night Stiles is slowly rutting against Paul, face tucked into his neck, afraid that Paul will be able to see everything that he’s thinking written across his face. Making love to Paul has always been that, making love. It’s sweet and slow, soft moans and gentle kisses. But with Derek it was desperate, like he couldn’t dig himself deep enough inside of him but he was trying to with everything he had. It was hot and at times it hurt but that’s what made it so good, that it left a mark. Derek would look at him like he was the only thing that existed, grip his throat and press their mouths together, panting and moaning against each other as Derek moved inside of him and he-

He comes with a strangled cry, body straining against Paul’s. Paul follows a few thrusts later murmuring his name over and over again and Stiles... Stiles is a fucking asshole. They clean each other up and duck under the covers together, Paul spooning Stiles in the way he likes.

“Tonight went well, don’t you think?” Stiles asks into the silent darkness.

“It was fun, better I think. That third wheel feeling is fading a bit.”

“I’m sorry my friends are dicks, especially Erica, she’s just protective and doesn’t properly know how to express emotions, if she actually has any besides anger.”

Paul laughs. “It's fine. Scott and Allison are really nice and the others...” he pauses, carefully contemplating his next words. “They’re more friends with Derek, right?”

“Yeah, I mean,” Stiles tries to control his words so they don’t come out in a stuttered nervous mess. “Boyd, Erica and Isaac all went to college with him.”

“Derek’s kind of a complicated guy, isn’t he?”

“He’s been through some stuff, he can be a bit... closed off.” Stiles doesn’t want to say anymore, at this point he doesn’t know who he feels like he’s betraying more.  

“Right, that’s what I thought, I just, I wanted to make sure it wasn’t me in particular he had a problem with.”

“No,” Stiles whispers. “It’s not you.” And it isn’t. It’s Stiles and his inability to walk away from Derek Hale.

After Stiles had realised he was in love with Derek it was all downhill from there. When he’d arrived in New York it was barely a month before they were back to sleeping together, but it was different that time around. They would spend the night at each other’s places, cook dinner together, touch each other even if it wasn’t leading to sex. Their friends caught on pretty quickly to what was happening. Scott hadn’t been mad like Stiles thought he would be, he’d been worried, because he knew how Derek was and he knew how hard Stiles loved. He should have listened to Scott, but he’d just wanted Derek so badly he became blind to reason.

Derek ran hot and cold. He was whispering dirty things in Stiles ear one moment and then bringing other people to their Friday night drinks, touching and kissing them and not even looking Stiles in the eye, the next. Whenever Stiles got too close to him, Derek would slam the door shut in his face and hurt him in the worst way possible. Stiles didn’t know if it was more painful only having parts of him or not having him at all.

About nine months ago Stiles had stopped sleeping with Derek, stopped texting him and stopped answering when he called. He would only see him on Friday nights, as friends, those were the rules he’d made for himself. Three months later he started seeing Paul, who was nice and kind and even though they had only known each other for a short amount of time, really cared about Stiles. The first Friday Stiles had spoken about him to the group Derek called him later that night after he’d gone home. Stiles ignored it, like he did in the following weeks when Derek drunk dialled him another three times.

When he told everyone he was going to bring Paul with him the next week, he couldn’t ignore Derek knocking frantically on his front door later that night.

“Derek.” His shirt was half untucked from his jeans, his collar all wonky and his hair sticking up like he’d been obsessively running his hands through it. He looked gorgeous. Damn him. “How did you even get up here?”

“I waited down stairs,” he answered offhandedly, like it was no big deal he was creeping out the front of Stiles’ building. “I didn’t think you would buzz me up. Is he here?” He pushed past Stiles, scanning his apartment.

“Derek, you can’t just-”

“Paul, is he here?”        

“No, Derek, he isn’t and you need to leave.”

“Good.” Derek chose only to hear the first word of that sentence. He crowded Stiles up against the wall, slipping one hand around his waist and the other against his cheek. “I miss you.”

“Please, Derek, don’t do this to me.” But it was like every other time he and Derek were alone together, like every other time Derek took Stiles’ bottom lip between his, biting it gently. The rest of the world just faded away and all he was left with was the need to climb inside of Derek’s heart and make a home for himself.

“Stiles,” Derek whispered against his ear, before sucking his lobe into his mouth. And Stiles was gone, shoving Derek toward his bed and whipping his shirt over his head.

Derek was gone when he woke up in the morning and Stiles had curled up into a ball, on the sheets that still smelled like him, like them, and cried so hard he thought he was going to die. But that hadn’t been the last time.

The last time was last Friday, when everyone had met Paul for the first time. It was uncomfortable; Derek was angry, Erica was passive aggressive and Scott was forcefully trying to make polite conversation. Paul had left early because he had an early start in the morning and Stiles had left with Derek, ignoring the hot glare of Erica and Scott at his back as he trailed after Derek.

That night he had found himself to be the one to slip out while Derek was still asleep. He couldn’t bear to wake up and have Derek kick him out, for Derek to look at him like he didn’t want him, like what they had didn’t mean anything. And so, he left and wondered how long he was going to keep putting himself through this pain before he finally broke.    

 

~

 

Stiles is pacing in his lounge room, phone gripped tightly in his hand.

He’d spent the day with Paul, they’d gone to the farmer’s market in the morning, gotten coffee together and bought some flowers to bring with them when they went for lunch with Paul’s parents. It had been a good day. Although he had guilt wriggling at the back of his mind, he hadn’t thought of Derek once. He held hands with Paul, laughed at his dad’s stupid jokes and then walked him home. No drama, no angst, no mind-games.

This is how it should be. It isn’t complicated and it isn’t intoxicating; it doesn’t consume Stiles until he feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. Stiles doesn’t find himself missing Paul when he’s in the other room but it’s better this way. Safer.   

He calls Derek.

“Stiles?” He sounds surprised but not displeased to be called by Stiles in the middle of the night.

“Are you home?” It’s a Saturday night and he worries for a moment that Derek might have someone else at his apartment.

“Yeah.”

“Can I come over?”

“Yeah, of course.” Derek says, like he hasn’t said no a million times in the past, like he wouldn’t ever say no to Stiles.  

Stiles hangs up the phone and is out the door before he has time to talk himself out of it. Derek’s place is only a fifteen minute walk but Stiles gets there in ten.

He pushes his way into Derek’s apartment as soon as he opens the door, turning around to press Derek up against it, turning the tables for once.

“Well, hello to you too.” Derek smirks. Stiles kisses him, wiping that smug smile off his face.

Stiles is frantic, all tongue and teeth, licking and biting. He pushes his hands under Derek’s shirt to get at his skin, moving down to suck at the soft spot behind his ear.

“Stiles,” Derek moans, his tone at odds with his body which is trying to push him away. Stiles merely pulls him back.

“Shut up.”

“Stiles,” he repeats, more forceful, pulling back to look into Stiles’ heated eyes. “Are you okay?”

“For once, will you just do as I tell you and shut up.”

Derek takes a second to really look at him, Stiles can see the concern in his eyes, the way his lips purse and his head tilts slightly to the side. But they don’t talk about emotions, never have, there’s only been one way they have ever dealt with things in the past and so, Derek grabs him around the hips and pulls him back against him. Stiles doesn’t need much more of an invitation. 

“Take your clothes off.” Derek’s pupils dilate at Stiles’ forceful words, he’s always liked it when he pushed him around.

Stiles takes two steps back and watches as Derek pulls of his t-shirt, keeping his eyes on Stiles the entire time. He slips out of his low-riding sweat-pants, he isn’t wearing anything underneath, and Stiles’ breath hitches as he takes in all of Derek. He’s hard and smooth and tan and Stiles knows what he tastes like, gets to him feel him under his tongue. At least for now.

“Bedroom. Now.”  

 

~

 

Stiles wakes up before the sun has fully risen. He feels the peace that usually accompanies an early morning, when you’re warm and safe and have nowhere to be. Derek has pulled himself tightly into Stiles’ side, his soft breath tickling him where his face is buried into Stiles’ neck. He always does this; when he sleeps all his defences fade away and he pushes as close to Stiles as he can get, his body wrapped around his.

 

Last night had been phenomenal. It had been slow but intense and Stiles had poured everything he felt into it, wanted to make Derek feel it, pushed him right to the edge and then slowly brought him back again and again, like they had all the time in world. They had only drifted off a few hours ago.   

  
Stiles watches him sleep for a while, lets himself feel it, the warmth of the morning and the tingling comfort of being in bed with Derek. He wonders if this is the last time he’s going to feel this way. Wonders if he could ever possibly feel this way with another human being. He doubts it and he doubts he would ever want to. And with that thought he allows all his anxiety to seep through him, all the doubt and sadness, until he’s short of breath and itching to get out of his skin.

  
He slips out of the sheets, his heart heavy in his stomach.

  
Derek finds him an hour later, fully dressed, staring out the kitchen window. He stops when Stiles turns to face him, face red and scrunched, arms wrapped around himself as tears well in his eyes. Derek speaks before he gets the chance.  

“You knew... You knew last night that it would--that it was the last, for you.” Derek’s tone is coated in betrayal and, even after everything, Stiles knows he’s justified in it.   

  
“You love me, I know that.” And he does, he can’t deny the way Derek looks at him, the way he kisses him, he’d stopped doubting it a long time ago. “But you don’t want me and yet you don’t want anyone else to have me.”  

  
“Stiles, I…” His words trail off into nothing, because he can’t deny it and Stiles would hate him if he tried.

  
“I get it, Der, I do. You’re scared and you don’t think you deserve to be happy but you do, you deserve it more than anyone I have ever met. I thought I could convince you of that but ... I don’t know anymore. You deserve to be happy but I do too and I just can’t do this any longer. You make me happier than I ever thought possible but you also hurt me and you make me hate myself. And I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

  
Stiles closes the distance between them, pressing his mouth against Derek’s, knowing it’ll be their last kiss. It's soft and messy with tears and he can’t stop his lips from trembling.

  
“I will _always_ love you and you will _always_ be deserving of it.” He whispers. Those words are the easiest to say because they will never stop being true but what he has to say next rips his heart in two. “Please don’t call me. Just … let me be.”  He pulls back, unable to meet Derek’s eyes. He needs to be strong and he’s afraid that what he’ll see will make him cave, like all the times before.  

  
He walks out the door and doesn’t look back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And months later here we are, after many re-writes I am finally done with this chapter, hope you enjoy it.  
> Also a little shout out to Melbourne and my favourite cafe, best coffee I swear ;)

Stiles wishes that he could say the following few weeks were the worst of his life but, honestly, they weren’t. Losing his mother has prepared him well for what it’s like to lose someone he loves. The worst thing is, though, that Derek is still out there; still living, breathing, still waking up at five in the morning to do hundreds of sit-ups and pull-ups and ordering way too much caramel syrup in his coffee. But Stiles still can’t have him.

Life can be a dick.

Derek has done as Stiles asked. He doesn’t call him or show up at his apartment. Stiles isn’t sure if he is at the bar with their friends on Friday nights because Stiles isn’t there himself and everyone has been very careful to keep every and all conversation away from the topic of Derek.

Stiles had called Scott the day after that morning in Derek’s apartment, Stiles couldn’t get more than two words out before he went into a fit of body-wracking sobs. Scott was knocking on his door twenty minutes later. Scott didn’t ask what had happened and after ten hours of marathoning Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Stiles had bitten out ‘it's over’ and that's all that was said on the matter. He assumes Scott had passed on the message to the others because they were treating him like he was made of glass and Erica was actually being nice to him. It was off-putting.           

Weeks turn into months and before he knows it four have pass and Scott and Allison’s wedding’s a week away. Stiles has been victorious in the war for best man – which had nothing to do with the fact he had turned into a pathetic mess of a person and scored the sympathy vote - and has learned something the hard way; it’s impossible for the best man to avoid being in the same room with one of the groomsmen.

“Are you going to be okay?” Scott asks, it’s his fifth call of the day and it's only two in the afternoon.

“I’m going to be fine.” Most likely. “It’s going to be fine.” Probably. Maybe. It’s more like 50-50 but those aren’t completely horrible odds. It’s a coin toss. They can be fun. 

“I wish you didn’t have to go through this but…”

“Hey, there’s no other place I'd rather be, you’re my brother. And the stuff between me and Derek is between me and Derek and it's in the past.” Stiles had practiced that line in front of the mirror, he had been awake until three in the morning reading The Secret. “Don’t worry, everything is going to be perfect.”

“Okay man, but just, don’t be afraid to talk to me yeah? Let me know how you’re feeling, if you need a time-out or whatever.” The heartfelt moment lasts all of five seconds. “So… strippers?”

“Don’t be a cliché, you’re better than that.” Stiles’ tone holds reprimand with a heavy dose of disappointment.  

Five hours later they all meet up at a funky low-key bar that Erica, fortunately, had absolutely no hand in picking out. Stiles has planned the best bachelor party of all time, if he does say-so himself and he’s managed to keep the festivities he has planned for the night a secret from Scott and all the guys. Stiles’ excited for the night and determined for it to be a good night, despite the fact that Derek’s currently leaning against the bar not two metres from him. He’s wearing Stiles’ favourite Henley. Bastard. 

“Alright,” Stiles declares, turning to the group once they all have a beer in hand, or in Isaac’s case a Diet Coke. “First, we drink!”

“And then?” Boyd asks, ever cautious.

“And then… we party.” Stiles winks. “To Scott.” He raises his glass to cheers, trying to keep his drink steady as everyone else follows suit and smashes their glasses together.

The group consists of Stiles, Scott, Boyd, Isaac, Derek and Liam, Scott’s little friend from work. They make a good little entourage considering they’ve all been friends for the better part of two years – apart from Liam, Stiles can’t see the allure there. And, Stiles notes, Scott and Boyd are very careful to place themselves in between Stiles and Derek at all times.   

“Aren’t bachelor parties traditionally done the night _before_ the wedding?”

“Yes, but I have a big night planned and who wants to spend their wedding day hungover, haven’t you seen The Hangover? That is a cautionary tale, my friend.”

“The Hangover huh? Does that mean strippers?” Liam asks, a smarmy smile on his teeny-bopper face. 

“Way to be cliché,” Derek teases, ruffing a hand through Liam’s hair as he tries to duck away from the onslaught. Dude’s precious about his hair.

Stiles turns to Derek with a bright smile, hearing his very own sentiments coming from Derek’s mouth. It’s one of the main reasons Stiles was so drawn to Derek, why they were so drawn to each other, they’ve always thought so alike. Despite their vast differences they always found the other as an unlikely ally, even early on in their relationship when the hostility was more palpable than anything else. Most of his life Stiles’ always felt like the odd man out, even now; sometimes it’s like he’s speaking a language that nobody understands. Nobody except Derek. 

For a moment, everything goes a little hazy as Derek takes in Stiles smile, bright and full and just for him, the way Derek’s looking at him is no less intense. And, as Derek begins to smile back as him, Stiles comes to his senses and his smile drops from his face, gaze darting anywhere but Derek. This is _not_ part of the plan.

He downs his beer in two gulps. “I’m getting another beer, anyone else want another?”  

Three beers and two hours later, Stiles is getting a call from their driver for the night and he begins shuffling all the guys out of the bar and into the brisk night air.

“Wow, Stiles, this is nice.” Isaac lets out a low whistle as they all slide into the Bentley Limo.  

“Can’t have the man of the hour cruising around in an eight-seater taxi, now can I?” He throws his arm around a grinning Scott. 

“Where are we off to next?” Boyd enquires.

“You’ll see when we get there,” Stiles answers with a teasing waggle of his eyebrows.

“I understand keeping Scott out of the loop, but why the rest of us?” Liam complains, already digging through the mini bar.

“A little mystique never hurt anyone, besides, you can’t close your mouth long enough to keep a secret,” Stiles retorts, trying to slap away Liam's hands from the tiny bottles. That shit costs extra.

“Hey!”

“Well, it’s true.”

“I know,” Liam admits sullenly and Scott gives him a consolatory rub on the back. “You could have said it a little nicer though.”

“Stiles is a master party-planner.” Scott hypes, beaming a proud smile.

“It’s true,” Derek chimes in and Stiles is taken aback by the compliment. “Remember your 21st? He had the brilliant idea of hiring out an entire amusement park for the day and he got us a 30% discount.”

That was a great day. He remembers making eyes at Derek whilst he ate a hotdog way slower than was necessary and then nearly choking on it when Derek stuck two ice-cream covered fingers in his mouth. Derek had ridden with him on the Goliath, Stiles wanted to ride it but not alone and Scott was too scared, Stiles knew Derek was slightly terrified as well but he never admitted it. Stiles' hand had bruised Derek had been gripping it so tight.      

“Oh yeah, no lines, that was _awesome_! All he had to do was sleep with the manager.”

“Scott!” Stiles practically squeals, quelling the urge to jump across the seat and smack him in the face. Stiles isn’t a prostitute, he’s an opportunist. “I was dating him!”

“Yeah, only for like the entirety of my birthday month, like _that_ wasn’t suspicious.” Scott and Liam giggle together, assholes.

Stiles stomach drops when he hears Derek's quiet little ‘oh’, turning to face him he tries to think of some excuse to make it sound not as bad as Scott is making it seem but shuts his mouth when he sees the look on Derek’s face as he stares resolutely out the window. Stiles feels like he has been caught out cheating and resents the fact that Derek can make him feel that way, it's not fair. Especially considering Derek never hid his conquests from Stiles, he didn’t have a leg to stand on.     

Luckily at that moment they arrive at their destination and Stiles excitedly climbs his way over to the door so he can be the first one out, followed by Scott.

“You ready?” Stiles opens the door and climbs out with a flourish, arms open wide. “Ta-da!”

Scott lets out a whoop and throws his arms around Stiles, his nerves finally calming at Scott’s ecstatic grin; he knew Scott would love the idea but doubt still lingered around Stiles as it always does. He always wants to be the best at everything he does.

“You motherfucking genius,” Isaac quietly intones, patting Stiles on the head.

“Laser tag?” Derek asks with a smile. “Let me guess, you hired out the whole venue?” Derek’s smile only further widens at Stiles’ exaggerated head nod. “Let's do this.”  

~

Scott passes out on the way back to his apartment, that last shot of his probably wasn’t the best idea. Boyd and Stiles giggle over Scott’s limp, snoring body, Stiles’ smirk grows cheekier as he whips out a permanent marker from his pocket. He’s prepared. He hoped it would be Liam but Scott is an equally enticing conquest.

“Oh yeah,” Boyd cheers, reaching for the marker only to have it ripped from Stiles’ hand by a sour faced Derek.

“No.”

“But the little bitch passed out and now, as per the rules, we must graffiti his face with cartoon penis’,” Stiles states haughtily.

“As per what rules?” Derek’s grumpy face is in full, patronising, force. 

“Don’t make me throw the rulebook at you, Derek, because I will.” Derek’s eyebrows are reaching new heights but he doesn’t look swayed by Stiles’ wagging finger and threatening tone. “Give me the marker.”

“No. How old are you again, twelve?”

“What are you, twelve?” Stiles mimics back in a high-pitched voice, feeling that mixture of annoyed and turned on that only Derek can ignite in him.       

Thankfully that is the moment they arrive at Scott’s apartment and Charlie, the driver, comes around to open the door. After saying his goodbyes, Liam jumps out of the car first, only living a block down the street, Stiles yells after him to text him when he gets home.  

“Well, I left my car here so I can get him upstairs,” Isaac says, moving to manhandle Scott out of the car. “Oh my God, he’s heavy.”

“He’s gained some wedding weight, he’s a stress eater, he doesn’t like to talk about it,” Stiles explains a little too freely and makes no move to help from his reclining position in the back, he figures he’s done enough for the night.

“Boyd, why don’t you help,” Isaac suggests and Stiles misses the look he throws Derek. “I’ll give you a lift home, it’s on my way.”

“But-”

In a surprising show of strength, Isaac pushes Boyd out of the car. “You grab the top, I’ve got the bottom,” he instructs, ignoring Boyd’s complaint.

“Yeah you do.” Stiles, so preoccupied giggling at his own joke, takes a minute to realise Boyd and Isaac are saying their goodbyes, with an arm full of passed out Scott. A second later the car door is swinging shut and he is alone with Derek.

Just him. With Derek. Alone.

Stiles stares resolutely out the window, rattling off his address to the driver when he asks for the next stop. It’s only a ten-minute drive. He can totally do this. He can ignore people like a pro. Especially Derek.

“Stiles,” Derek speaks tentatively, shuffling a few seats closer. “We need to talk.”

Nope. He _cannot_ do this.

“No, we don’t. I’ve said all I have to say.” The city lights pass by in a blur as Stiles tries to focus on anything other than the comfortable blanket of intimacy the back of the limo has enveloped them in. 

“What about what I have to say?” The words are reproachful and Stiles gut burns in white-hot anger. 

“What about what you have to say? After everything, Derek, _really_? After everything you've done you really think you have any right?”

“You’re right,” Derek agrees readily, pale eyes intent in the dim light of the limo. “I don’t have any right to ask anything of you, but I’m going to because I can’t go on leaving the things I have to say, things that you need to hear, unsaid. So please, for me, I just need you to do this, to hear me out.”

After a moment Stiles nods, holding back the agonised scream in the back of his throat.

“Tomorrow at ten, Degraves Café, I know you like the coffee there. You can back out if you want, I don’t want to pressure you but I’ll be there.”

“Okay.”

The rest of the drive is silent, Stiles thinking about everything and nothing all at once. As he moves to get out of the car once they pull up in front of his apartment, Derek smiles at him in that soft and open way he sometimes does and Stiles practically leaps from the car.

He feels sick, anxiety bubbling up from his stomach and tightening across his chest. He doesn’t know if he wants to hear Derek out or if it’s actually the very last thing he wants to do. He was done. That morning four months ago, everything he had said, that was the final chapter for him. The ending of Stiles and Derek and their tragic saga. He was committed to that.

But he knows he won’t ever entirely let it go and there are still questions, still lingering reservations in the back of his mind. Maybe this could bring more closure, acceptance; or it could just bring him more heartbreak. Stiles supposes that’s a risk he’s always willing to take with Derek. 

 ~

The café is hidden in the corner of a little alleyway and they make the absolute best coffee in the city. It’s Stiles’ favourite place but he and Derek would always come here the morning after for pancakes, he hasn’t been here in five months.

Stiles arrives a few minutes early but Derek is already there, his expression is a mixture of happy surprise, relief and terror when Stiles slides into the seat across from him.

“I ordered you a cappuccino.”

“With-” 

“With cinnamon,” Derek assures.

“Before you say anything I just need to say,” Stiles takes a deep steeling breath, “it was really hard for me to come here. I really just need to walk away from you and leave you in the past. But apparently there’s a massive difference between what I need and what I want right now, and what I want is to hear what you have to say and what you’re feeling. I think you probably deserve the chance to explain it to me.”

Silence engulfs them when the waiter comes over with their coffees. Derek’s drink of choice is, as always, a caramel mocha that has no right in calling itself coffee, Stiles can smell the sugar from across the table.

Derek takes a minute to collect himself, taking a small sip from his drink, his leg jiggling like crazy under the table. Stiles watches him, slightly taken aback. He’s never seen Derek like this before, looking frazzled and worried and so vulnerable. He aches to lean across the table and take Derek’s hand in his, to take his anxiety away.

Derek starts talking and Stiles just sits and listens.   

“Everything you said that morning was right. I’m scared, fuck, I’ve been scared since I was fifteen years old, but when I’m with you, when I _was_ with you, I wasn’t scared anymore and that just made me terrified and angry.” Derek snorts out a self-deprecating laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. “The way I treated you was fucked up but when I realised what it was between us, I wanted you but at the same time I was trying to push you away. I don’t know if it was because I was trying to protect you or punish myself. Maybe both. I didn’t want to hurt you. You deserve to be happy, Stiles, and I would give you the whole world if I could.

“But the way I feel now... I can’t stand it. I’ve lost you entirely, and I can’t stand not being able to text you at midnight when I’ve woken up from a nightmare. I can’t stand that I don’t get to see that stupid face you pull across the bar when Scott drinks Pina Coladas, or hear you snort when I touch the skin behind your knees.”

“I do not snort.” Stiles denies stubbornly, even as he feels heat creep up his neck, and Derek's eyes trace over the reddened skin, eyes turning soft.

“I know I’m being an asshole, after everything I’ve done,” Derek continues. “But I’m going to be selfish this one last time and I need you to let me. I’m not asking you to take me back and I’m not asking you to give me a second chance. I’m asking you to let me show I can be good for you, that I would be. Just me being there for you, like I wasn’t before. All of me. Because I’m yours, Stiles. For as long as you allow me, I’m yours.”

Stiles can barely process and catalogue everything he’s feeling. Anger, sadness and disbelief seem to be the emotions winning out. He wants to scream at Derek in righteous anger, ‘I’m yours’? This, now, has suddenly become easy for him to say, where was it years ago when Stiles needed it?

His pride is clawing at him to get up and walk away because he doesn’t deserve this and Derek doesn’t deserve him after what he’s done. But there’s another part of him that knows he’s equally accountable for their messed up relationship, that it isn’t Derek’s burden to carry alone. Stiles pulled away from Derek, he had been mean and cruel at times because he was hurt. Self-sabotage was something they both excelled at; what a pair they make.   

“Why? Why are you telling me this now? After months.”

“I wanted to tell you that morning, when I woke up in my bed alone, after that night we had together; I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you and I knew that I was. But you were so angry and sad and I knew that you had every right to be, and to be with Paul, if you could be happy with him I wanted you to have that chance.

“A couple months back Erica told me you broke up with him, but I wanted to give you time. Time away from me, time on your own. I don’t … I’m sorry if it wasn’t the right thing to do, I just—I didn’t want to force myself on you. I wanted to respect what you asked of me but I also needed to say this, to do this… If you’ll let me.”

“I didn’t expect you to be so… honest and self-actualised,” Stiles says after a thoughtful moment. For as long as Stiles has known him Derek’s preferred to snark his way through life, disconnected from his emotions. This Derek was so very different to the dick he had been in their last months together, this is the Derek Stiles would sometimes find in rare quiet moments together. “You sound like you’ve seen a psychologist.” He regrets the way the words fall from his mouth like a joke.  

“I have, I am… seeing one. Have been for three months.” It’s Derek’s turn to blush, averting his gaze self-consciously.

“Oh.”

That he was not expecting. He might have easily blown this off as Derek merely telling Stiles what he wants to hear, that, if he accepts, it wouldn’t be long before things went back to the way they were. But seeing a psychologist, something he thought he would never in a million years see Derek do, that’s harder to ignore.     

“What does your psychologist think about us?”

“She thinks that we’re either the best thing for each other, or the worst.” They both smile eerily similar smiles, Derek most likely thinking the exact same thing as Stiles, _no fucking shit_. “And that depends entirely on how the next few steps of our relationship go.”

“And how do you want them to go?” It’s a question Stiles has always wanted to ask him but has always been too scared of the answer.  

“I want us to be friends, to be honest and open and there for each other.” Derek looks in Stiles eyes for the first time since he sat down, green meeting brown. Stiles wonders if his heart will always feel like it’s breaking whenever he looks at Derek’s face. “To love each other, without any bullshit.”

“Without any bullshit,” Stiles repeats, nodding, thinking nothing sums it up better than those three words. “I need some time, to think about it.”

“Okay.”

He figured ‘some time’ would be a week, hell maybe even a month but it’s barely 12 hours after they’ve said goodbye that he’s calling Derek. His heart beats rapidly in his chest as he listens to it ring.

He had been hurt, by Derek, by himself, by their relationship. But it had been over before it had the chance to begin. He refuses to hold onto that pain, because the ifs are more dangerous than anything else. If they have a second chance to do it right and it still doesn’t work out Stiles can walk away, he knows. He can walk away and he’ll be okay, eventually, because at least they tried.

He’s pacing up and down his apartment, hand held over his heart trying to quell the feeling that it is going to jump out of his chest at any moment. The phone clicks, then silence, then Derek’s tentative voice saying hello. He thinks about his mom and her short life, how much her and his dad had loved each other, even when it hurt, and how his dad lives now. His dad once said to him, after a few too many scotches on the anniversary of her death, “I don’t regret a damn thing, and I would do it the exact same way again if I could, mistakes and all”. That’s the kind of life Stiles wants to live. 

There are certain moments in life when you feel everything at once, when you feel like you’re standing on a cliff edge, consumed by both utter terror and elation, and are too aware of your mortality but feel completely immortal all at once. This is one of those moments.      

“Okay,” he says, his voice steadier than it has any right being.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on tumblr if you want to talk more about this fic and get your sterek fix ~ https://behindthemaddness.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr if you want to keep updated, see some other things i'm working on and get your Sterek fix - https://behindthemaddness.tumblr.com/


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